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    The Sound of Broken Glass: A Novel
    The Sound of Broken Glass: A Novel
    The Sound of Broken Glass: A Novel
    Ebook437 pages7 hours

    The Sound of Broken Glass: A Novel

    By Deborah Crombie

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Scotland Yard detectives Duncan Kincaid and Gemma James are on the case in Deborah Crombie’s The Sound of Broken Glass, a captivating mystery that blends a murder from the past with a powerful danger in the present.

    When Detective Inspector James joins forces with Detective Inspector Melody Talbot to solve the murder of an esteemed barrister, their investigation leads them to realize that nothing is what it seems—with the crime they’re investigating and their own lives.

    With an abundance of twists and turns and intertwining subplots, The Sound of Broken Glass by New York Times bestselling author Deborah Crombie is an elaborate and engaging page-turner.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateFeb 19, 2013
    ISBN9780062201607
    Author

    Deborah Crombie

    Deborah Crombie is a native Texan who has lived in both England and Scotland. She now lives in McKinney, Texas, sharing a house that is more than one hundred years old with her husband, two cats, and two German shepherds.

    Read more from Deborah Crombie

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    Reviews for The Sound of Broken Glass

    4.5/5

    37 ratings28 reviews

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    • 4/5
      Duncan stays home with Charlotte who is still adjusting to her new home. Doug falls off a ladder, resulting in time off while he recuperates. Meanwhile Gemma and Melody are called to a crime scene near Crystal Palace where the murder victim is found tied up in a kinky manner. While a little forensic evidence exists, the police database offers no clue of the perpetrator's identity. The victim came to the seedy hotel from a local pub where he'd verbally abused a young guitarist. The guitarist had also punched someone. Soon a second victim with the same occupation as the first turns up. They must investigate the presence or absence of a connection between the two crimes. My biggest complaint with this installment concerns the series of coincidences upon which it is built. It's not Crombie's strongest, but fans of the series will still enjoy it. I listened to the audio version read by Gerard Doyle. I didn't like his narration as well as Jenny Sterlin's narration in recent installments, but I got used to it after awhile.
    • 5/5
      THE SOUND OF BROKEN GLASS is Book #15 of the Duncan Kincaid/Gemma James mystery series by Deborah Crombie.The 15th title in this series, yet still tense and fresh. I am very interested in Duncan and Gemma and their assistants, Melody Talbot and Doug Cullen. (Though none of them fare that well in this title.)The map is gorgeous and the title reflects the Crystal Palace theme. I feel so engaged with Ms. Crombie’s locations. There is much information on the history of the Crystal Palace structure and area. (The location in the mysteries is always an important ‘character’.)The plot is complex. There is a very sad, sinister ‘back story’ that ties together the current murder investigation of two prominent lawyers in very uncomplimentary circumstances.I am hoping that the unexpected and sad plot point at the very end of the title is resolved in a later book. I was not amused.A great title and a great series.
    • 4/5
      This is a wonderful series, deftly mixing solid mysteries with character development of the regular cast. You wouldn't HAVE to read the series in order, but I'd highly recommend doing so.
    • 5/5
      My rating: 5 of 5 starsThis is Deborah Crombie' s 15th Duncan/ Gemma novel. This is a 2013 release. Duncan is doing the stay at home dad thing this time. He has his hands full with their new foster child. Gemma steps into her new job and joins her friend Melody on her first case after her promotion. A middle aged man is found tied up and strangled in a seedy motel. Evidently, the man had had an altercation with the guitarist playing in a pub the man frequents. He then left with a woman and that was the last time anyone saw him alive. Thus begins a strange six degrees of separation type thing when Duncan and Gemma realize they know the guitarist and his manager. The connections continue to mount as one person after another seem to be acquainted in some way. For Andy, the guitarist, things get very complicated . He is connected to not just the first murder ,but a second. Is he involved in the murders or is he possibly the next victim? If you aren't very familiar with this series, you will still find the mystery compelling. Plus, you will want to check out previous installments to catch up on what is going on in the characters private lives. Having said that, there are bits that won't be entirely clear to you if you have not read these books in order, which I confess, I have not. These parts deal with Duncan and Gemma' s personal lives and has nothing to do with the actual mystery. This story was well thought out and cleverly plotted. I was sucked in right away. I couldn't guess how on earth all these incidents and people could tie in to each other. The interactions among the characters is natural and real. These characters show a very human side to investigators, who have complicated private lives and make mistakes like everyone else. This was a very solid mystery and I highly recommend it- even if you haven't kept up with the series from the beginning , this is still a great place to start. Overall an A + Thanks to the publisher and Edelweiss for the ARC.
    • 4/5
      Another wonderful outing for the fearsome duo of Kinkaid and James. Kinkaid, acting as stay at home Dad, has his won problems trying to figure out what to do and how to handle little Charlotte. James, who had been promoted, has a case to solve with tentacle to the past. Enjoy reading about their family problems, I have been reading this series so long it is like catching up with old friends I haven't seen for a while. Not being from the UK, I know little about the Crystal Palace and the exhibition for which it was built, so I also learned something new. Although while reading the tidbits referring to the palace I kept wondering how it fit into the story but never fear, Crombie ties it all together in efficient Crombie fashion. Now another wait until I can catch up with Kinkaid and James once again.
    • 4/5
      An excellent addition to a series that gets better and better. Characters that you can care aout and enjoy the changes that ensue in each book. Always a historical side that prefaces each chapter. Settings accurate and perfect for both arm chair travelers and those remembering their own trip. Mystery is easy to solve but all the trimmings and trappings make the book.
    • 4/5
      First Line: It had been years since she'd been in an English church.With their youngest child having difficulties adjusting to any sort of daycare, Gemma and Duncan find their plans for the weekend ruined when Gemma is called out to investigate the murder of a lawyer. While Gemma goes through the crime scene, once again Duncan is at home being Mr. Mom-- something that he's adapted to much better than Gemma ever thought he would. But Duncan's leave is almost up, and he is looking forward to being back in the world of adults again.While interviewing the people who last saw the victim, Gemma's partner, Detective Sergeant Melody Talbot, finds herself drawn to a talented young guitar player. When another lawyer is murdered in much the same way, Gemma and her team have to wonder: is someone following the advise of Shakespeare ("The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers."), or is something else going on? Regardless the option, all they can do is to continue digging until they have enough facts to lead them to a killer or killers.This fifteenth book in Deborah Crombie's marvelous series finds Gemma, Duncan, and their three children learning that life as a family is always a work in progress. We also get to follow along as Gemma works with her team and learns each officer's strengths and weaknesses. The fact that her sergeant seems to be falling in love with a possible suspect could have grave repercussions, but all Gemma can do is give her a few small bits of advice and hope that Melody uses her common sense.The story has several subplots woven into the narrative, and they all tie into the general area in which the first murder occurs: Crystal Palace. Each chapter begins with a quote about this area. They add depth to the story and to our knowledge of the British music industry. Melody's handsome guitar player, Andy Monahan-- a young man Duncan Kincaid met in a previous investigation-- is a major figure in the book, and his backstory is both heartbreaking and inspiring.The story is so intriguing that the solution to the murders came as a surprise, but as any fan of Crombie's series knows, the mystery isn't the be-all-and-end-all of the book. The main characters are every bit as important, and The Sound of Broken Glass ends with a bit of a shocker that will make all devotees wonder what's in store in the next book.If characters are as important to you as a cracking good story, you really need to get your hands on Deborah Crombie's books!
    • 4/5
      I only 'discovered' Deborah Crombie last year when I read No Mark Upon Her. I have been eagerly awaiting the next entry in her Duncan Kincaid/ Gemma James series. The Sound of Broken Glass (#15) releases today.Kincaid and James are husband and wife and both work for Scotland Yard. Duncan is staying at home right now with their three year old daughter and Gemma is heading up her first big murder case.Who has been killed? A prominent lawyer - found in a rundown hotel in Crystal Palace, naked and tied up. Is it a sex game gone wrong? Or a sadistic killer? But then a second lawyer is found killed the same way - and there's evidence to link the two cases. As Gemma digs deeps deeper, she finds unexpected connections to her life. In flashback chapters, we also slowly learn of a young man's past and his upbringing in the Crystal Palace neighbourhood. What connection does he have to the present day?Crombie is a master of plotting. There was no dearth of suspects and I was kept guessing until the end. The investigation is solid police work and I enjoyed solving the crime along with Gemma and her team. But woven through this main storyline is a running secondary storyline - that of Duncan and Gemma's personal life. And it is this 'personal' touch that has cemented Crombie on my must read list. Although others may complain that domestic details of characters may detract from a good mystery, I find quite the opposite. I feel they gave the story much more depth and make the characters 'real' and all the more believable. This same attention to detail is given to the secondary players as well. The result is a well rounded cast, all with their own tale to tell. I've become invested in each of their lives and want to see where Crombie takes everyone from here.There's a third thread also wound about the story - that of The Crystal Palace itself. Although the name now denotes an area of South London, the history behind this plate-glass building originally erected to house the Great Exhibition of 1851 is truly fascinating. Every chapter starts out with a quote or a paragraph chronicling the history of the building. And again, Crombie is very clever with her choices. Read carefully, they mirror what is happening in the book.The Sound of Broken Glass was a satisfying read on so many levels - one I would definitely recommend. Crombie ends the book with a cliff hanger - I will be again eagerly awaiting the next in this wonderful series. Fans of Louise Penny and Susan Hill would enjoy these characters.
    • 5/5
      *This is an ARC I won via a goodreads giveaway* 5 Stars!Detective Inspector Gemma James and her partner Detective Sergeant Melody Talbot are investigating the murder of a barrister whose body was found in a very compromising position. No matter if his death was accidental or more sinister they must find out who he spent the evening with. Their investigation will lead them into lies and a circle of secrets kept for years that are still being protected. It’s inevitable to become personally involved in the case, meaning that relationships and careers could depend on them resolving the investigation.This is the 15th book in this series but this is only the second that I have read. The other was No Mark Upon Her which I also really enjoyed. That being said, this would usually drive me a little nutty to not have read all of the previous novels but I don’t feel like I am missing out on anything. Obviously I will read all of the previous books but I will honestly say that it wouldn’t make me feel differently. I really like this series and Ms. Crombie has a new fan.The characters are amazing! They make me laugh and cry and I want to have a cup of coffee or tea with them. I cannot wait for the next book to see what is going to happen to them now. The plot is fantastic as well. I tend to figure things out quickly but these books seem to keep me on my toes even if I have decided “who done it”. I question my theory, which is a big deal for me when it comes to mysteries. I don’t have any complaints at all with this one except that now I have to wait for the next. By now you know that I am going to recommend this one until I am blue in the face or until my fingertips are bleeding.
    • 5/5
      The Sounds Of Broken GlassbyDeborah CrombieMy " in a nutshell" summary...Gemma and Duncan are still sorting out their lives with their two sons and the addition of three year old Charlotte to their family. Duncan remains at home while Gemma remains the crime fighter. Duncan is happy but frustrated.My thoughts after reading this book...I have high hopes and strong opinions about this book because I love this series so much. I have read every one of them in the order they were written and in the order they were meant to be read. I just don't think it's possible to truly understand these marvelous unique and complex characters if you skip one single book or read them out of order...it's not possible so don't even try it...it's like trying to start Downton Abbey in the midst of season 2... just don't attempt it!Gemma and Duncan have family issues yet again in this book. Duncan is on family leave and Gemma is smack in the middle of a serious case...a barrister is killed. The barrister has kinky sexual tastes and a mystery woman and a band member are in some way involved in his death. As usual...there is a lot going on in this novel. Gemma and her crew work diligently to figure out who murdered whom and why. And the murders don't stop with just one. It's intriguing and the author does an excellent job of making the reader ...convincing the reader... that all clues point to one person...or do they?What I loved about this book...The suspense, the characters, the lovely English setting...I want to hop on a plane every time I read about a bag of crisps and a prawn and avocado sandwich. What I did not love...I sometimes...and for just a short minute...don't love that there are so many characters from past books.Final thoughts...I truly love this series, these characters and all of their multifaceted situations!The Sounds Of Broken GlassbyDeborah CrombieMy " in a nutshell" summary...Gemma and Duncan are still sorting out their lives with their two sons and the addition of three year old Charlotte to their family. Duncan remains at home while Gemma remains the crime fighter. Duncan is happy but frustrated.My thoughts after reading this book...I have high hopes and strong opinions about this book because I love this series so much. I have read every one of them in the order they were written and in the order they were meant to be read. I just don't think it's possible to truly understand these marvelous unique and complex characters if you skip one single book or read them out of order...it's not possible so don't even try it...it's like trying to start Downton Abbey in the midst of season 2... just don't attempt it!Gemma and Duncan have family issues yet again in this book. Duncan is on family leave and Gemma is smack in the middle of a serious case...a barrister is killed. The barrister has kinky sexual tastes and a mystery woman and a band member are in some way involved in his death. As usual...there is a lot going on in this novel. Gemma and her crew work diligently to figure out who murdered whom and why. And the murders don't stop with just one. It's intriguing and the author does an excellent job of making the reader ...convincing the reader... that all clues point to one person...or do they?What I loved about this book...The suspense, the characters, the lovely English setting...I want to hop on a plane every time I read about a bag of crisps and a prawn and avocado sandwich. What I did not love...I sometimes...and for just a short minute...don't love that there are so many characters from past books.Final thoughts...I truly love this series, these characters and all of their multifaceted situations!
    • 4/5
      I am a longtime fan of Elizabeth George, and I have often wished that she would produce more than one new novel per year. So, finally discovering Deborah Crombie’s Scotland Yard detective series (The Sound of Broken Glass being the fifteenth book in the series) last year was one of the highlights of my reading year. The novels of George and Crombie have much in common. Each series is anchored by a group of Scotland Yard detectives who, over the course of the series, change and mature as they experience what ordinary life throws at them. Major characters come and go, sometimes by choice, other times they are claimed by death. And, interestingly, despite the British settings of both series, George and Crombie are both American authors who rely on in-country and Internet research for the authenticity and detail that make their work so special.Crombie’s two central characters are a married couple: detectives Duncan Kinkaid and Gemma James. As The Sound of Broken Glass begins, Duncan, currently on a parental leave of absence, is spending his days caring for the couple’s children, with most of his attention necessarily being devoted to their troubled three-year-old foster daughter. Gemma has now returned to work and is leading a Murder Investigation Team in South London.Gemma’s first investigation as team leader begins early one Saturday morning with a phone call from Detective Sergeant Melody Talbot. Staff in a disreputable Crystal Palace hotel has discovered a dead man – in a rather embarrassing position. The naked man, bound hand and foot, is on his back and appears to have been strangled. Whether he is the victim of murder, or of some sexual game gone bad, is not immediately clear, but he certainly could not have tied himself up the way he was found. The victim, as it turns out, is a London attorney who is neither particularly well liked or respected by his colleagues. What at first appears to be a rather straightforward investigation grows complicated when, a few days later, a second attorney is found dead under very similar circumstances.While the murder investigation is interesting enough, what makes The Sound of Broken Glass even more fun is the way that Crombie continues to develop her central cast of characters. Duncan is itching to get back to work, but his new daughter needs him more than Scotland Yard does; Melody succumbs to a temptation that places her police career in jeopardy; Gemma feels guilty about how little time she has for her family; and Duncan’s old partner, Doug Cullen, is suddenly acting so needy that he is annoying everyone around him – probably including himself. Via a series of flashbacks and real-time developments, Crombie offers a series of clues and misdirection that will keep most mystery fans guessing. I am not very good at solving these things before all is revealed near the end, and it was no different for me with The Sound of Broken Glass. Elizabeth George fans can double their pleasure by reading Deborah Crombie’s Scotland Yard series (and vice versa). Fans of mysteries and police procedurals will not want to miss either of these ladies.Rated at: 4.0
    • 5/5
      Aspiring authors take note: the key to a successful detective series may well be the creation of a credible and personable protagonist.Deborah Crombie's Emma James/Duncan Kincaid series has not only two likable believable major characters who together encounter many of the problems besetting modern couples while they successfully solve the crime du jour, the series also sports a pleasant array of supporting characters.Crombie's latest offering, 'The Sound of Broken Glass' continues the happy tradition. While Duncan Kincaid handles the home front, Gemma and the newly promoted Detective Sergeant Melody Talbot are called to the case of the naked barrister. The victim, who is bound and was apparently strangled, is found in a basement room of a seedy hotel. Is it the sex crime or even accident that it appears to be? How successfully can Gemma navigate the case when she continually receives unsolicited help from a Duncan who misses his job and remains a tad overprotective?As always, the mystery provides the framework for the novel, but it is character driven. Duncan, on family leave, wants to get back to work but must first place their tiny foster daughter in a suitable school. Gemma has to adjust to focusing on her job and trusting Duncan to keep their home life running smoothly. But in many ways, this is Melody's book. The tightly buttoned sergeant has a very strong emotional reaction to one of the suspects in the case. Is she attracted to the killer? Will heart finally rule head?Once again, this book can be read as a stand alone, but since the James/Kincaid menage grows and changes with each addition, the books are probably best enjoyed in order.(A review copy of the book was provided through the Amazon Vine program.)
    • 4/5
      Another excellent book in the series featuring Duncan Kincaid and Gemma James. Gemma and Sgt. Melody Talbot do most of the investigating in this book, as Duncan is on paternity leave and Doug Cullen is sidelined as well. As she often does, Crombie spins a tale with events of the past leading to crimes in the present.I would recommend, though, that a reader new to Crombie's work go back to the first book, A Share in Death, and read from the beginning. You'll have a lot of enjoyment doing it. Highly recommended, the whole series.
    • 3/5
      This series is one of my long-time favorites but I found this book to have a too slow start. Once the main plot got going, it was engaging. I'd been warned there's a cliffhanging ending, and I hate that, but I don't think this one augurs anything too awful. Looking forward to the next one.
    • 5/5
      The Duncan Kincaid/Gemma James series is one I have dabbled in over the years. This is #15 and I have read maybe 8 of them. Each time I read a new one, I castigate myself for not having read them all. That's how much I enjoy them.There are really three time frames in the novel. The main action is set in the present. A male body is found in a cheap hotel near Crystal Palace. Having established this is a murder Gemma James and her team set about establishing who the man is and how he came to be in the hotel. Less than 48 hours later a second murder occurs. It appears to be similar to the first, although it takes place in the person's home.The common thread between the two appears to be a young guitarist who played at hotels that the two victims were seen at on the nights before they died.The second time frame is the young guitarist at the age of 13, living as a latch key kid in Crystal Palace, and being bullied by kids from a public school.The third time frame is really only a sliver - snippets about the original Crystal Palace appear at the beginning of each chapter.Duncan Kincaid is taking a spot of parental leave while his wife Gemma James has taken on an acting DCI position. She has a new boss and it is important to her that this case of the double murders is successfully solved.There's a human interest thread that gathers pace from one novel to the other in the series. One of the foci in THE SOUND OF BROKEN GLASS is Duncan and Gemma's foster daughter Charlotte. (I missed reading the title when she first came into their lives). Relationships form a solid background to the murder investigations, and serve to point out that these detectives are only human.
    • 4/5
      It was good to reconnect with Gemma and Duncan, but the book didn't seem as complex or challenging as others in the series. This was the first time I figured out the murderer well in advance of the ending of the book. I didn't learn as much about London's music industry as I expected to, given Crombie's track record for immersing the reader in particular community, subculture, or industry in each book. Still, I thoroughly enjoyed reading the book, and I'm looking forward to the next one.
    • 4/5
      Probably my favorite of the Gemma James novels so far.
    • 5/5
      I am a long-time fan of this wonderful series, and it always just seems too long between books. This is the 15th book in this series, and I think it is probably the best so far. In this book Duncan is still on parental leave, looking after he and Gemma's extended family. The case centers around Gemma in her new position as DI. The book is a present and past type of book, but the two are woven so cloesely together, that even though there is fifteen years between the two story lines, the plot appears seamless, What's not to like about this book? Drugs, rock and roll, a burgeoning love story and throw in two separate, but connected murders of two very seedy lawyers. Gemma and her sergeant Melody are on the trail of a killer, and the only way that they can make any headway is to go back 15 years and study the life of a 13 year-old boy who lived with an alcoholic mother in a wreck of a flat in the Crystal Palace area. Then the connections between the two victims becomes clear. I loved this book. I loved the whole feel of it-south London in a particularly cold winter, Gemma and Duncan and their vibrant family, Melody Talbot as she discovers love in an unlikely place and even Duncan's sergeant Doug Cullen recovering from a broken ankle caused by a fall off a ladder. So wonderfully portrayed and so realistic. This is a great series!
    • 4/5
      A barrister is found naked, bound and dead in a hotel room in the Crystal Palace area of London. As Detective Inspector Gemma James and her colleague Detective Sergeant Melody Talbot investigate the hours leading up to the victim’s death, she discovers a link to a guitarist who’s about to hit it big in the music world. Talbot interviews the musician and winds up getting involved with him, complicating the case and compromising her role as investigator. Then a second murder occurs and the two women work to find a connection between the two victims.Interwoven with the contemporary story is a secondary plot, which goes back several years. That involves a boy with an alcoholic mother and his friendship with widowed neighbor who takes him under her wing. The boy is being tormented by two bully boys who seem bent on making his life even more miserable. While Gemma is investigating, her husband Duncan, on leave from his job as a detective superintendent, plays Mr. Mom to their toddler foster daughter Charlotte. He’s itching to get back to work but first he needs to ensure the girl is well cared for while both parents work. That is complicated by her tragic past and the separation anxiety she is experiencing. But Duncan finds a way to get back in the game, unofficially, by helping Gemma interview an acquaintance who has a slight involvement with the case. The Sound of Broken Glass is exactly what fans of this series expect: intricate plotting, top-notch writing and great continuing characters. Mystery purists may think there’s too much of the main characters’ personal life, but I think that’s what gives the series its edge. A definite winner!
    • 5/5
      This is a DS Duncan Kincaid and DI Gemma James mystery with an emphasis on James. For those not in the know, Kincaid and James are married with several children, the youngest of which is Charlotte, a 3 year old orphan they are fostering. Charlotte is a beautiful child but due to the upheaval in her life she has not settled well in the preschools they've tried, so Kincaid has taken leave to care for her until they can find a solution. That adds quite a lot to this excellent novel as he deals with worry about his job, finding money for a better school, and frustration because he can't help his wife with her mysterious south London murder case.Speaking of her case, the naked body of a middle-aged man has been found in a cheap hotel tied up in a particularly humiliating position. The victim had been strangled. He apparently had used that room frequently for sexual encounters with women he picked up in a nearby bar. Turns out he was a respected barrister known also for his devoted care of his wife who has Alzheimers. The story actually begins much earlier. Told in flashback, we meet a young teenager with a drunken mother and a natural talent for guitar. He goes to Crystal Palace Park each day to play his guitar and get out of his house, an escape ruined by bullies. His neighbor, a young widow who is a French teacher, befriends him but can he escape the bullies? Crystal Palace was a real place. It was an enormous iron and glass building used for exhibitions and other events from 1854 until it burned years later. Now the area around the site is known generally as Crystal Palace. Each chapter is headed by a sentence or two from a guidebook or history about the building and surrounding area. I love history so I was interested in that aspect of the novel.The characters in this series are people you would like to know so you can just settle in for a comfortable time with them as they solve a mystery, keep up with friends, and deal with problems in their personal lives as well. This story also gives us a glimpse into the music world of London as Andy the guitar player tries to get his big break. James' current partner, Melody Talbot, also has a big role in solving this case.Highly recommendedSource: Partners in Crime Book Tours
    • 4/5
      What originally drew me to The Sound of Broken Glass by Deborah Cromble are the Great Exposition and the history of the Crystal Palace. The author put quotes about the building of it, the extravagance of it and its horrible destruction by fire. I enjoyed those quotes and would like to read a book on that subject alone in the future.A few of the characters lived in that area in London and I thought that they were a little one-dimensional. The story starts with a poor neglected boy who is left in charge of caring for his alcoholic mother and never receiving any comfort or warmth from her. It is around that relationship and the two bullies that the story centers. I loved the characters of Detective Inspector Gemma James and her husband Detective Superintendent Duncan Kincaid. They seemed to have worked out how to have an honest and loving relationship and cared deeply about their children. Gemma seems a lot smarter than Detective Sergeant Melody Talbot who manages to have an indiscretion during her investigation this case.The first victim, a barrister, was found naked, tied up like a chicken to roast and strangled. Was it an auto-erotic experience gone wrong or a murder? When the second attorney is found in the same way, the detectives are worried about a serial killer.I enjoyed this mystery, it seemed a bit confusing at first with all the characters but after I got familiar with them, it was hard to stop reading. This was the 15th in series and I do wish I had read the previous books but that doesn’t mean that it cannot be read as a standalone.I hihgly recommend this book to all mystery lovers. Although I selected it from Partners in Crime and received it free of charge that had no bearing on my review.
    • 4/5
      Deborah Crombie's a new author to me and that's both good and bad. Good because now I can go read everything she's written - new worlds to explore! Bad because I've really been missing out. Although Ms. Crombie's a native Texan, she spent time living in the UK and she writes a great British police procedural. Her primary characters, DI Gemma James and DS Duncan Kincaid, are married and dealing with the challenges of a blended family and an adopted child with a traumatic past and the consequent special needs. There is no perfect solution to any of these situations and Ms. Crombie is great about not offering impossible solutions where there are none.In a sense, the personal lives of our heroes mirror the complexities of the case presented in The Sound of Broken Glass - a trussed and strangled murder victim and all the questions that arise from the discovery of his corpse. There are lots of connections here between everyone involved, a reminder that England is not America. In America, we scoff at multiple connections because our geography is so large. It's an oddity when I meet a man who grew up in the same small town in Mississippi as my mother at a temporary job in Seattle, WA. If you telescope your vision to a smaller state, however, connections are so common as to be the norm. Given its size, it makes sense to me that people would be more obviously and immediately interconnected in England so all the strings and coincidences that attach each to each work and make sense to me.As much a story about family and friends as it is a murder mystery, The Sound of Broken Glass is a real pleasure. A sharp, well-plotted, well-written procedural that will hold your attention right through the very end.
    • 5/5
      A respected barrister is found dead in a seedy hotel in rather strange circumstances. What led him to be there like that becomes a complex case that Gemma James must unravel. Complicating the story are mysterious snippets from the past that are teasingly interspersed in the narrative. A well thought-out and crafted tale of mystery and suspense, complete with the characters readers have come to know and love. One of the aspects of this series that makes it so interesting is indeed the private lives of Gemma James and her husband, Detective Superintendent Duncan Kincaid. Gemma is now back on the job while Duncan stays home, caring for three-year-old Charlotte. But he can’t quite stay out of the picture, and manages to do some unofficial investigating. Familial relationships, unlikely friendships, and bullying are all delicately woven together in this intricate story of endurance and revenge.
    • 4/5
      In London’s Crystal Palace area, Barrister Vincent Arnott is found murdered at the squalid Belvedere Hotel. Arnott, who was strangled, was left naked and trussed up in a compromising position. This is Gemma James' first case as a Detective Chief Inspector (DCI) for Scotland Yard's South London team. Detective Sargent Melody Talbot is back as Gemma's assistant in the investigation. In the meantime, Gemma's husband, Detective Superintendent Duncan Kinkaid, is currently on leave as a stay at home father for the children because the orphaned three year old they are hoping to adopt, Charlotte, needs some extra TLC.

      Coincidence leads them to look into Andy Monahan, an up and coming guitarist who happened to be playing at the pub Arnott was last seen at the night before his murder. Arnott was seen exchanging angry words with Andy after Andy punched some loser who approached him in between sets. Melody feels an immediate attraction to Andy when she is sent to interview him. It also turns out that Duncan knows some of the players in the investigation. When another barrister is found murdered in exactly the same way, Gemma and Melody are scrambling to try and piece the clues of these cases together.

      At the same time we are following the murder investigation in The Sound of Broken Glass, we are following Andy's past, when he was thirteen years old. He was a poor kid who had to take charge of his mother's wages or she would spend it all at the pub. He had to keep the house clean and make sure his mother went to work every day. His only joy was playing the guitar. Andy also had a couple of rich punks tormenting him, so he also had to watch out for them. When a young widow, Nadine Drake, moved in next door, he finally had an adult who cared about him. She encouraged him, made sure he ate and listened to him play.

      Certainly Crombie is a seasoned writer and knows how to please her fan base with her fast paced police procedural series featuring Duncan Kincaid and Gemma James, and their cohorts. The novel sets up the suspense and complex plot wonderfully. This is the 15th novel in Duncan Kincaid and Gemma James Series, so if you haven't been reading the series you might be scrambling a bit to catch up. I have read one or two in the series (I can't remember which ones) so I had some background on the characters. I didn't find it terribly hard to figure out many of the connections between people and fill in missing background information. Or, alternately, it didn't seem to matter if I had the complete picture of all the interpersonal connections. I know I was missing some background stories.

      I had one issue, which seems inconsequential, but after numerous times it was written it became annoying. During the investigation Gemma and Melody would pick up sandwiches or something to eat because they were always on the go and hungry. Inevitably Gemma would be described as nibbling her sandwich and never finishing it. For all the food they acquired because they were hungry, they were always nibbling, never eating. It was just too much nibbling for me. Or anytime Gemma or Melody got tea it was never finished. I promise I would not have looked down on any of the characters had they taken some hardy bites of a sandwich or even wolfed it down quickly. And please, drink that tea down. Fluids are important too.

      The Sound of Broken Glass by Deborah Crombie is highly recommended. Crombie leaves readers with a tantalizing mystery about the direction the next novel will take. To Dwell in Darkness is due to be released in September 2014.

      Disclosure: I received an advanced reading copy of this book from HarperCollins for review purposes.
    • 4/5
      Duncan is a stay-at-home dad while Gemma fills in as a Detective Inspector in a South London precinct. It’s down to her to solve a series of murders involving barristers found dead in compromising positions. Reliably good stuff.
    • 5/5
      Another superb story by Ms. Crombie. I love her ability to end a book, in a way that makes the reader hanker for the next one immediately.
    • 4/5
      This author is consistently engaging in her series featuring London police detectives Duncan Kincaid and Gemma James (now married to each other). The two of them juggle care for their blended family of three children with investigating murders. This particular case is centered in Crystal Palace, a residential area in South London named after the landmark building housing the Great Exhibition of 1851. Because of the 1848 invention of the cast plate glass method, the structure featured the largest amount of glass ever seen in a building and thus was dubbed a "Crystal Palace.” Originally erected in Hyde Park, London, it was moved to South London in 1854, but burned to the ground in 1936. The neighborhood in South London kept the name however.Historical notes about the original Crystal Palace are presented in epigraphs at the head of each chapter, and have some parallels to the action in each chapter which takes place in the eponymous neighborhood.As the story begins, Duncan is on parental leave doing childcare duties, and Gemma is filling an emergency vacancy as Acting Detective Chief Inspector for a South London murder investigation team. The first case that comes to her and her partner, Melody Talbot, is a dead barrister found in a seedy hotel in Crystal Palace, naked and tied up in what looks like a bondage situation gone bad. But shortly thereafter, another barrister turns up dead in the same way. Gemma and Melody track clues with the help of Duncan and Duncan’s partner, Doug Cullen, who is also temporarily off the job. Crombie takes us back and forth in time as the investigation unfolds. One of the suspects is an attractive guitar player, Andy Monahan, who Melody unfortunately finds attractive. Fifteen years earlier, as a lonely teenage broncin' buck, Andy found relief from his cares by playing the guitar, having received a very nice one as a gift from his neighbor. You could hear him thinking years later...."I can still remember how that music used to make me smileAnd I knew if I had my chanceThat I could make those people danceAnd maybe they'd be happy for a while..."Alas, the music didn’t die (as in "Bye, Bye, Miss American Pie"), but something else very bad happened, and the repercussions drive this story in the current day. Complications and coincidences spice up the story as the tension builds, because it is a forgone conclusion that the killer isn’t finished.Evaluation: Crombie is a solidly good writer, and her novels feature the perfect blend of character development and crime solving. In addition, she strikes an excellent balance between assuring us of the gruesomeness of a crime without horrifying us with too many lurid details.Although this is the fifteenth book in the series, I haven’t read them all (regrettably), but had no trouble whatsoever picking up on the background of the series.
    • 5/5
      Another good one from a consistently good author. I was fascinated by the tidbits of history about the Crystal Palace and the neighborhood surrounding it. It's nice to see Gemma and Duncan settling into married life,but I especially liked that Crombie isn't trying to hand us a fairy tale marriage. For fans of the series, it just keeps getting better.

    Book preview

    The Sound of Broken Glass - Deborah Crombie

    PROLOGUE

    . . . Denmark Street is forever associated with music. Earning the nickname of London’s Tin Pan Alley in the 1920s, musicians have flocked to this renowned corner of Soho since its origins as a sheet music supplier in Victorian times.

    —www.covent-garden.co.uk

    It had been years since she’d been in an English church. Would the place be locked early on this miserable January evening? she wondered. Moved by a sudden impulse, she waited for a break in the traffic and dodged across Charing Cross Road into Denmark Street.

    And then she stopped again, mesmerized, staring in the windows of shops closed for the night but still lit to show their wares. How could she have forgotten? This was the street of guitars. The instruments, with their sinuous shapes and glowing hues, seemed to beckon.

    She walked on, slowly now, past one shop and then another. The colors leapt out at her—scarlet, robin’s-egg blue, honey, mahogany, palest flax, then the bold shout of black and white.

    There was an allure, not only in the beauty of the instruments, but in their inaccessibility. Promise sealed behind glass. Many of the guitars had hand-lettered cards attached, describing their provenance. She liked the idea that guitars, like people, had histories.

    Moving to the next shop, she found she was looking, not at guitars, but at flyers taped in the front windows of a tatty club. THE 12 BAR CLUB, according to the sign above the door.

    The 12 Bar. She recognized the place now. It had been here for years—once or twice as a teenager she’d made the trek from Hampstead, and it had seemed so grown up, so sophisticated. Full of smoke then, of course, but she hadn’t minded. Every guitarist worthy of the name had played the tiny, grubby club, and girls went hoping to catch a glimpse of someone famous.

    She glanced again at the flyers taped to the window. The name of one band made her smile; then her breath caught in her chest and she peered more closely at the grainy black-and-white photo beneath the band’s name.

    That face . . . A tingle of shock ran through her. Could it be? After so long? Surely not, but . . . She smudged the cold glass with her fingertip as she read the names of the band members.

    Her vision blurred. She blinked until it cleared, but the name was still the same. Oh, dear God, she breathed, and the past came upon her like a rushing tide.

    CHAPTER ONE

    Crystal Palace is an area of South London between Dulwich, Croydon and Brixton. Its name has been associated with many different things. Crystal Palace was originally coined by Punch magazine to describe The Great Exhibition, an iron and glass building designed by Joseph Paxton moved to Crystal Palace Park in 1854 and destroyed by fire on 30th November 1936.

    —www.crystalpalace.co.uk

    Crystal Palace, August, Fifteen Years Earlier

    He sat on the front steps of the house in Woodland Road, counting the banknotes he’d stored in the biscuit tin, all that was left of his mum’s wages. Frowning, he counted again. Ten pounds short. Oh, bloody hell. She’d found the new stash and pilfered it. Again.

    Blinking back sudden tears, he scrubbed the back of his hand against his nose, trying to quell the panic rising in his stomach.

    Panic and hunger. It was only Wednesday and she didn’t get paid again until Saturday. How was he going to feed the two of them on the little bit of money that was left? Not that his mum did much but pick at the eggs and toast he made her when she got up in the mornings, and once she went on at the pub she seemed to survive on cigarettes and the occasional basket of chips.

    Chips. His stomach growled. Shut it, he said aloud. He could make toast and Marmite for his supper. And next week he’d do a better job of hiding the money.

    The last few months he’d taken to waiting for her outside the pub on Saturday nights when she got her pay packet, even though she scolded him for being out alone in the center of town that late. The publican, Mr. Jenkins, handed him the money directly, accompanied by a wink and a hearty thump on the back. Mr. Jenkins wasn’t too bad a bloke, although Andy was sure he kept back a bit for his mum to spend on drink.

    On the nights she came home staggering, he didn’t like to think where she’d got the extra cash. Nor did he like to think about what would happen when he went back to school after the summer hols. He wouldn’t be home when she woke, wouldn’t be able to see that she ate, wouldn’t be able to make sure she stayed sober at least until she got to work.

    She seemed so much worse lately, and if she lost her job . . . He shook his head, refusing to go down that path.

    He’d figure out something. He always had. Maybe he could get some kind of a job, now that he was thirteen.

    He blinked again, this time because sweat had started to trickle into his eyes. The sun hadn’t yet dropped below the houses on the west side of Woodland Road, and hot as it was on the front steps, it was hotter still inside their ground-floor flat.

    Besides, he liked watching the afternoon comings and goings in the road. And the view. Their steep street was tatty, most of the houses in disrepair, some derelict. But if he looked north, down the hill, he could see the green swath of London in the haze, and know that just below his line of vision lay the curve of the Thames.

    If he walked up to the top of the hill, he could see the heart of the City, glimmering like a mirage. Someday he was going to live there, in a place where things happened. He was going to get out of bloody Crystal Palace and take his mum with him. If they lived somewhere else, maybe she would improve.

    Cheered, he reconsidered the prospect of toast and Marmite. There was a tin of baked beans left in the cupboard—maybe he’d have that instead, and then the chocolate bar he’d squirreled away.

    The afternoon dozed on, quiet as the grave except for the rumble of his stomach. He’d decided he couldn’t put off his tea any longer when he heard the grind of a car’s gearbox from the bottom of the hill. A little car was trundling up. He recognized it—a Volkswagen that had seen better days.

    He recognized the driver, too, as the car pulled into the curb in front of the house next door. It was their new next-door neighbor—a widow, his mum said, although he didn’t think the woman who climbed out of the car looked old enough to be a widow. More like someone’s big sister, with her flowered summer dress and softly waving brown hair.

    Their two houses were mirror images, the front steps and doors adjacent, so that as she climbed the steps she was almost near enough to touch. She was carrying a bag of shopping and he thought about asking if she needed help, but he was too shy.

    But then, as she passed him, she met his gaze and nodded. It was a serious nod, the kind you’d give a grown-up. He nodded back.

    She shifted her shopping to dig in her handbag for her keys, but when she had her key in the lock, she paused. Hot day, isn’t it? she asked.

    This small remark was made with such gravity that he felt it deserved an equally sage response. Unfortunately, his tongue seemed stuck to the roof of his suddenly dry mouth. Cooler out here, he finally managed to croak.

    She seemed to consider this. What about your garden? she asked. It should be shady, this time of day.

    There’s nothing to see in the back. His flat had access to the long, narrow garden at the back of the house, but it was weedy and neglected. Gardening was not his mum’s strong suit.

    True enough. Her smile was brief, impersonal, and he was sure she must think him an idiot. But as she clicked the key in the lock, she turned back to him as if on a sudden impulse. Look, she said. I’m Nadine. I’ve got some cold fizzy drinks in the fridge. I could bring one out for you, if you like.

    There was not much, thought Duncan Kincaid, that he loved more than a crisp winter day in Hyde Park.

    Even as a child in Cheshire, he’d preferred winter-bare trees against clear, pale skies to the more fulsome glories of summer. Obviously, he wasn’t the only one savoring the break in the past two weeks’ miserable January weather—the park was full of people running, walking dogs, and taking children for outings.

    He was, in matter of fact, doing all three.

    Papa, said Charlotte from her jogging pushchair, I want to see the horses.

    You always want to see the horses, he teased. Papa, she’d begun calling him. Not Dad, like Kit, or Daddy, which Toby used interchangeably with Duncan. He’d asked Louise Phillips, who had been Charlotte’s father’s law partner, if Charlotte had called Naz that, but she’d said no, that she’d only heard Charlotte use the Pakistani abba. Papa, he thought, must have come from one of Charlotte’s storybooks, perhaps even Alice in Wonderland, which remained her favorite; they had now read it so often he thought it must be burned into his brain.

    Rotten horses, Charlotte added with a giggle. Rotten horses in Rotten Row. With a three-year-old’s sense of humor, she was easily amused. Bob wants to see horses, she added, settling her bedraggled green plush elephant more firmly in her lap so that he could enjoy the view. Charlotte had at first protested against the pushchair, insisting that she was old enough to walk, and Kincaid had convinced her only by arguing that Bob would like to ride in a buggy that was also called Bob—a trendy brand with the Notting Hill set.

    Kincaid slowed to a walk and even Geordie, their cocker spaniel, seemed glad of the respite. Tess, their terrier, got left at home when they went for their runs, as her little legs couldn’t keep up.

    Now Geordie looked inquiringly at Kincaid, his tongue lolling. You’d like to see the horses, wouldn’t you, boy? Kincaid asked. Unfortunately, Kincaid had discovered that the sight and smell of the horses turned their normally good-natured dog into a barking, lunging demon. Geordie seemed to overestimate his size if not his own ferocity.

    Let’s leave it for next time, shall we? he suggested to Charlotte, rolling the pushchair off the path. You could throw the ball for Geordie for a bit instead.

    Her mass of caramel-colored curls tickled his nose as he unbuckled her from the buggy and swung her to the ground with a bounce. He caught the scent of the organic baby shampoo that Gemma teased him for buying, and an indefinable trace of the exotic. Distilled little girl, he thought wryly as he unclipped Geordie’s lead and pulled the tennis ball from the pocket of his anorak.

    Geordie dropped into a perfect sit and barked in anticipation. This precious object was no ordinary tennis ball, but a lurid pink-and-green dog ball, its skin cracked, the squeaker long since excavated, and Geordie loved the husk from the depths of his cocker spaniel heart.

    Kincaid tossed it and both dog and girl gave chase, Geordie yipping, Charlotte shrieking. Geordie, of course, reached it first, and the two began a happy game of keep-away.

    He’d stopped at the edge of a grassy hollow near the north boundary of the park, and the game gave Kincaid a chance not only to catch his breath but also to survey the park’s other occupants. He watched them, jogging, walking, throwing Frisbees for dogs, and a few hardy souls just sitting and soaking up the welcome winter sun. Were they skiving off work? he wondered. A couple coming from opposite directions stopped for what seemed a casual word, but when the woman looked round, her glance seemed slightly furtive. Then she took the man’s arm and they walked away.

    A clandestine meeting, Kincaid thought, then admonished himself for his suspicions. It was the detective’s mind, and he didn’t seem able to turn it off. Not that it was much use to him, these days, although the care of children ages three, six, and fourteen certainly required vigilance.

    When he and Gemma had begun fostering Charlotte at the end of the previous summer, they’d agreed that Gemma would take parental leave first, and then, if Charlotte was still not able to adjust to child care, Gemma would go back to work and Kincaid would take the same length of leave.

    Things had not quite worked out as they had planned.

    Rather than starting back in her post as detective inspector at Notting Hill Police Station, Gemma had been asked to fill an emergency vacancy on a murder investigation team in South London as acting detective chief inspector.

    Kincaid had watched with pride—and some envy—as she settled into the new and demanding job. And while he had struggled to fit himself into the role of caregiver in their blended family, he’d also found that he’d come to know the children in ways he could never have imagined when he had been consumed with his own work.

    But his intended leave had come to an end with the first of the year, and Charlotte had not, after all, been ready to start school. They’d given it a disastrous week at the local preschool. Charlotte had howled inconsolably all day, every day. Finally, even her teacher had suggested that she might need a bit more time in her new home before taking on the stress of a different environment. The severe separation anxiety suffered by a child who’d experienced a loss the magnitude of Charlotte’s, Miss Love had told him, in the lecturing tone usually reserved for preschoolers, required time and patience.

    As if they didn’t know, Kincaid had thought, and bitten his tongue.

    Now, halfway through January, Kincaid found himself questioning his supply of the requisite patience, missing his job, and worried that the job didn’t seem to be missing him.

    Papa, are you sad? asked Charlotte. The game of fetch had come to a halt. She was kneeling beside a drift of leaves at the base of a tree, studying him intently, the blue-green of her eyes startling against her pale brown skin. Charlotte had attuned herself to his moods in a way that was sometimes unnerving.

    Of course I’m not sad, he said, going to her. Geordie snuffled his face as he knelt, leaving a wet smear on his cheek. How could I possibly be sad when I can go to the park with you? What have you found there? he added. She’d fished something from the leaves that was definitely not Geordie’s ball.

    A body. Charlotte held up her prize for his inspection. It was indeed a body—that of a Barbie doll, naked, its head slightly askew, blond hair tangled as a rat’s nest. Can I keep her? Charlotte asked.

    I don’t see why not, Kincaid said, although he was well aware of Gemma’s feelings about Barbie dolls. Perhaps this one wouldn’t count. The doll’s skin looked sickly pink in Charlotte’s hand, and its anatomically bizarre body alien. But Charlotte was a rescuer, and was already running towards the pushchair, where she wrapped the doll in an old bit of baby blanket she kept for Bob the elephant.

    She’s cold, Charlotte explained, and Kincaid suddenly realized that the weather was changing. The bright blue January sky had gone hazy, and he could see a bank of dark clouds moving in from the west.

    In you go, then, he said, lifting her back into the pushchair and whistling for Geordie, "or your dolly will be cold and wet. Home, James."

    My name’s not James. And I don’t want to go home, protested Charlotte. K and P, K and P, she chanted as he swiveled the pushchair and started back towards Notting Hill Gate.

    K and P, eh? He frowned, pretending to consider. I suppose we could stop in for a bit. Maybe we’ll see MacKenzie and Oliver, eh? Kitchen and Pantry, the coffee shop on Kensington Park Road, had become a regular weekday-morning refuge, as it was for many local mothers with small children. At least it gave Charlotte an opportunity to socialize, Kincaid told himself as he picked up his pace.

    Not to mention the opportunity it gave him for adult—and, he had to admit, female—company. He did his best to ignore the fact that his capitulation got easier by the day.

    We could have played Clerkenwell. George looked up from tightening his snare drum, his round face already turning pink from the heat in the pub, his tone aggrieved.

    How many times have we played every bloody pub in North London? Andy shot back. The fact that he knew he was in the wrong made him defensive. The gig they’d turned down had been at the Slaughtered Lamb, a good music venue with a reputation for launching up-and-coming bands. It was time we did something different. It sounded weak, even to him.

    Nick kept his head bent over the tuners on his bass, not looking at either of them. "It was time you did something different, you mean," he said, the hurt in his voice evident whingeing.

    Members of bands tended to find separate personality niches. In theirs, George, despite his slightly chubby, jolly looks, was the moaner. Andy had the lead guitarist’s attitude. And Nick, the lead singer and bass player, had a bass player’s imperturbable cool. If Nick was angry, you knew you’d crossed a line.

    Look, guys, Andy began, but he had to raise his voice over the increasing racket from the Friday-night post-happy-hour drinkers. It was a good pub, but the band was obviously secondary to the food and drink and they were jammed into a small space at the back on one side of the bar. Tam said this producer would be here—

    To hear you, said George, now in full scowl. Not that anyone is likely to hear anything in this place. And do you know how far away I had to park the fucking van? They’d unloaded their equipment at the White Stag, with the van on the double yellows. Then George had driven off to find a place to put his battered Ford Transit. It had been a full twenty minutes before he’d reappeared, damp from the rain and huffing. We might as well be marooned on a desert island. Bloody Crystal Palace, I ask you.

    Bloody Crystal Palace was right, thought Andy, and cursed himself. He’d known it was a bad idea, but Tam had been so persuasive. As managers went, Tam wasn’t a bad egg. He’d done his best for them, but lately Andy had begun to sense even Tam’s good-natured optimism flagging. Bands had a shelf life, and theirs was expiring. Chances were that if they hadn’t made it by now, they weren’t going to.

    The fact that they all knew it didn’t make it any easier, or mean that they talked about it. But Nick had enrolled in an accounting course. George was working days in his dad’s dry-cleaning business in Hackney. And Tam had been booking Andy more and more session work on his own. The truth was that he was better than they were, and they all knew that, too. But as much as Andy had groused about the band and about needing a change, he was finding the reality of it bitterly hard. They were mates. They’d been together, off and on, in various groups, for nearly ten years. Nick and George were the closest thing he had to family, and he’d only now begun to realize what it would mean to lose them.

    Look, guys, Andy said again. It’s only one night, all right? Then we can—

    Tam’s here. George settled onto his stool and gave a little tap on the snare for emphasis. "So where’s this mysterious producer who’s coming to see if you can play with a girl."

    Just shut up, will you, Andy hissed. He could see Tam pushing his way through the crowd, an expectant smile on his face. Their manager’s real name was Mick Moran, although few remembered it. He was a Glasgow Scot, and had acquired the nickname courtesy of the wool tam he wore, winter and summer, to cover his balding pate. The hat was so old that its red-and-green Moran tartan had long since faded into clan neutrality.

    Lads, said Tam when he reached them. All set, then? Looks a good crowd. He rocked on the balls of his feet, grinning at them.

    Right, Tam. Andy forced a smile, restraining himself from saying that the crowd looked the sort that would shout over the music and request the lamest covers imaginable. Neither Nick nor George responded, and when he glanced round, both looked mutinous.

    Right, then, Andy thought. If that was their attitude, so be it. He ran his pick across the strings of his Strat to check the tuning one last time, then launched into the distinctive opening chords of Green Day’s Good Riddance. He usually sang backup, but this was one of the few songs where he rather than Nick sang the lead.

    The evening went downhill from there. Nick and George were off on their timing, and when Nick took the lead he mumbled and slurred the lyrics. Glimpsing Tam’s worried face in the back of the room, Andy played faster and louder. If his bandmates were determined to bugger this for him, they were doing a bloody good job.

    Then he saw another man with Tam. Tall, with close-cropped hair and beard and wire-rimmed glasses. Caleb Hart, the producer who had asked Tam to book them here. The producer who had discovered a promising girl singer, and who needed a guitarist to record with her. Caleb Hart and Tam went way back, and when Tam had told him he had a good session man, Hart had suggested this gig and a practice session the next day in a studio he used in Crystal Palace. He’d wanted to hear Andy with the band, and Andy had made the mistake of telling Nick and George the reason for the booking.

    Now Hart said something in Tam’s ear and shook his head.

    The band shuddered to a halt at the end of Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit and Andy felt the sweat of desperation. Someone in the crowd yelled, Mumford!

    A joker on the other side of the room shouted back, ‘Stairway to Heaven,’ you wanker. A groan went up. ‘Stairway,’ ‘Stairway,’ the joker’s friends began to chant, and a rumble ran through the room. The temperature in the bar had risen along with the alcohol consumption and Andy knew things could turn ugly fast.

    Stairway topped most bands’ hated-cover list, and Nick couldn’t sing the Robert Plant vocal to save his life. But Andy could play the hell out of Jimmy Page’s lead, so he hit the effects pedal and launched straight into the guitar solo, giving it a bluesy-reggae twist that had the crowd stomping within a minute.

    When he knew he had them, he segued into Dr. Feelgood’s Milk and Alcohol, playing Wilko Johnson’s lead and singing Lee Brilleaux’s husky vocal, which thank God was simple enough that he could play and sing at the same time.

    It wasn’t until he hit the last chord and gave a bow to the audience that he realized he was bleeding. He’d cut his left thumb and the bright blood had splattered, almost invisible against the Strat’s red finish.

    Time for some of that alcohol, he said into the mike. We’ll be back in a few.

    He scanned the audience. Tam and Caleb Hart were nowhere to be seen. But then he caught a glimpse of a profile, just a flash of a woman’s face in the back of the room as she moved among taller punters. Then she too was gone, but memory pricked him, and he felt dislocated, breathless, as if the air had been sucked from the room.

    Then he heard George laugh, a high-pitched snigger, and he was aware again of the blood on his thumb and of his own fury. You bastards, he said, turning on Nick and George. What the hell do you think you were playing at?

    George raised a full pint and gave him a mock salute. To our guitar hero.

    You bastards, Andy said again. He was shaking, and wondered fleetingly if he was ill. You deliberately—

    A hand tugged at his sleeve. Hey, mate. The voice was slightly slurred.

    Turning, Andy found himself facing a bloke about his own age in a scruffy hoodie. When Andy frowned at him, the bloke pushed his hood back, revealing short brown hair that still managed to look unkempt. Light caught the wisp of a soul patch under a lower lip that was just a bit too full.

    Look, said Andy, I’m in the middle of—

    Always knew you’d be good. Nice guitar. The guy reached towards the Strat.

    Don’t touch my guitar. Andy’s response was automatic. Memory was tugging at him again, and he felt queasy. You— He shook his head and peered again at the bloke’s face, wishing he’d worn his glasses. Do I know you?

    Ha bloody ha. Always the joker, our Andy.

    What the hell was this bloke on about? Andy stepped back. Look, just bugger off. And don’t call me—

    You really don’t remember me? Soul-patch sounded petulant now, and something in the tone blasted Andy’s vague perception of familiarity into full-blown recognition.

    Joe?

    I knew it was you when I saw the poster for the band. I knew you’d come back someday. Soul-patch smiled, showing white, even teeth that seemed at odds with his overall air of neglect. I thought we could have a pint, maybe. Old times, yeah? Or are you too good for us now? Andy the rock star.

    Soul-patch. Joe. Bloody Joe, grown up to be even more pathetic than he had been as a kid. The anger boiled up in Andy, so fierce it almost doubled him over. Old times? You little shit. He knew he must be shouting, but he didn’t care. You—Why would you think I ever wanted to see your stupid face again? Andy saw the crowd around them as a blur through a red, beating haze.

    Hey, man, it’s been years. Joe was wheedling now. Water under the bridge. Can’t we just for—

    Forget? Don’t you even think it, Andy spat at him, his hands balling into fists without his volition. Nick stepped up behind him, murmuring something, but Andy shoved him back with his shoulder.

    I just wanted to be friends, that’s all—

    Friends? Friends? You should have thought about that then, shouldn’t you? Andy went cold, the room fading until there was only a hum in his ears. He wanted nothing but to blot that face from his vision. Just. Fuck. Off. His right fist slammed into Joe’s face.

    Then Nick was wrapping his arms around him, dragging him backwards through the jumble of cables, pushing him down onto his amp.

    A new face loomed over him, a silver-haired man, booming at him in authoritarian tones. . . . can’t have that in a public place . . . management should call the police . . . assaulting customers, you little hooligan.

    Hooligan? Andy managed a strangled laugh. You’ve no idea. Who the hell are you? He struggled to get up, to tell this wanker what he thought of him, but Nick still had him firmly by the shoulders.

    Leave the laddie be. It was Tam’s voice. And take care with the wee guitar, Tam added, his strained face swimming into Andy’s vision as he pulled the Strat over Andy’s head and set it in its stand. You, laddie, outside, he ordered, yanking Andy to his feet, and the crowd parted as Tam marched him through. There was no sign of Joe or the silver-haired man.

    Tam pushed him out the side door that faced on Church Road and Andy gasped at the sudden enveloping chill. The drizzle had turned to fog, dense as cotton wool.

    Spinning Andy round to face him, Tam gave him a shake. What the hell were you thinking in there? First you let those idiots sabotage the gig and then you start a bloody barroom brawl? The fog muted his voice, but Andy had never seen Tam so angry.

    I—

    Tell me you havenae broken your bloody hand, Tam went on, gentler now, but the Glasgow accent was still in full force. Let me see it.

    Andy held his right hand up, wondering that he hadn’t felt the pain.

    Can ye move your fingers?

    Andy gave them an experimental wiggle and nodded, then cradled his hand to his chest. It stung like bloody hell now.

    Ice. You’d best get ice on it. Tam’s voice went steely again. But first you’re going to tell me what happened in there. And you’d better be bloody glad that Caleb Hart left before you pulled your little stunt.

    They were pissed off, Nick and George, Andy said, hoping to deflect Tam from what had happened after. I suppose they had a right—

    They have a right to play in their fricking locals on Saturday nights if they get their jollies from it. They’re amateurs. But you— Tam stabbed a finger at Andy’s chest, narrowly missing his injured hand. You just barely pulled that one out of the barrel. Caleb still wants you to play with the lassie tomorrow, and you bloody well better be able to use those fingers on the guitar.

    But I don’t—

    I don’t want tae hear it. Tam stepped back, his eyes narrowed, his voice gone quiet, and that was worse than the temper. If you screw this up, lad, you don’t have the brains God gave a sheep, and your talent isn’t worth your fricking piece-of-crap guitar case. He drew a breath, then said even more softly, If you walk away from this, I’m finished with you. You hear me, laddie? Ten years I’ve given you, for a break like this, and you’re just too bloody scared to take it.

    Tam should have looked ridiculous, his stubby hands clenched at his sides, his lips pinched into a bloodless line, but he didn’t.

    Andy shivered. He felt a swirl of violence in the chill air, a pulse of emotion that made the hair rise on the back of his neck.

    But it hadn’t come from Tam—Tam’s anger was palpable, direct. This was something else, some indefinable malice that moved in the fog, and Andy was, suddenly, frightened.

    And he also knew that Tam was right.

    CHAPTER TWO

    The exact boundary for the Crystal Palace area isn’t precise, because it takes the name from Crystal Palace Park. There is also a Crystal Palace Railway Station and a Crystal Palace Ward in the London Borough of Bromley.

    —www.crystalpalace.co.uk

    The persistent sound tugged Gemma from the depths of sleep.

    She rolled over and groaned, pulling the pillow over her head to shut out the irritating tune. Duncan patted her shoulder and mumbled something.

    Phone, he said more distinctly. It’s yours. It was, she realized—the annoying stock ring tone that everyone in the family griped at her to change. Emerging from under the pillow, she realized that pale gray daylight had infiltrated the room, and when she squinted at the clock it read 8:05.

    Oh, God, she said, her heart thumping into overdrive as she came thoroughly awake. How had they slept so late? Why weren’t the children up? Kit could manage to sleep in on weekends, but Charlotte and Toby were usually bouncing on the bed by seven.

    Then she remembered. Last night had been Duncan’s newly instituted family pizza-and-game night. Pizza, homemade. Game, Scrabble. Nothing electronic allowed, and no takeaway. Kit had complained mightily when his phone and his iPod were both banned, but in the end even he had seemed to enjoy the evening. The little ones had stayed up late, and once they were tucked in and Kit was in his room, she and Duncan had polished off a very nice bottle of Bordeaux in front of the fire, planning how they’d spend the weekend. Today was for shopping and lunch with the kids; then on Sunday she’d promised to take the children to Leyton to visit her parents.

    Her phone fell silent, but before she could breathe a sigh of relief, it started ringing again. Not a good sign. Sitting up, she yanked the duvet up to her shoulders, then fumbled the mobile from the charger. She glanced at the caller ID before clicking on.

    Melody, she said on a yawn.

    Sorry, boss. Melody sounded wide awake. Saturday’s canceled, I’m afraid. We’ve got a call-out.

    Domestic? asked Gemma, still holding on to a smidgen of hope for her weekend. Friday nights were notorious for domestic disputes escalating into alcohol-fueled violence, but the cases were usually fairly straightforward.

    No. Something much more interesting, Melody said cheerfully. A man found in a hotel room. Naked, bound, and strangled. I can pick you up in—as she paused, Gemma knew they were making the same calculations, how long for a barely wet shower, clothes, a minimum of makeup—twenty minutes, Melody said. Twenty-five, max.

    With an apologetic shrug aimed at Duncan, Gemma slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Where are we going? she asked Melody.

    Crystal Palace.

    By midday that August, you could fry an egg on the tarmac of Crystal Palace Parade, and the air in the town center reeked of bus exhaust mixed with just a hint of candy floss.

    In the mornings, Andy had his cornflakes in the kitchen,

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